Chapter 7. Even the Flowers and the Moon Would Hide Their Faces in Shyness
“Do you like the tea?”
“Yes. It’sh yummy.”
“There are macarons here too. Are there any foods you can’t eat?”
“No, nathing… (Not really…)”
“Oh my, how commendable.”
Though there were a few slips here and there, Blanche’s strategy worked splendidly—arguably, it worked too well. Just like with the Emperor, she had piqued the Empress’s curiosity, perhaps even excessively.
Empress Riana liked children and animals but had the unfortunate tendency to make children cry and animals faint whenever she approached. Because of this, she had never been able to properly dote on either.
Only two children had ever faced the Empress without bursting into tears. One was her husband, Berken, who was born with imperial dignity. The other was Melchizedek, who had shaken his rattle with world-weary eyes the moment he was born.
But Berken was the same age as her, so the only child she had ever been able to properly dote on was Melchizedek.
Imagine her situation: the only child she could ever pat on the head had eyes like an old man who had lived several lifetimes. Then along came this adorable little girl—quiet, gentle, and not prone to tears. It was only natural for Riana’s heart to be completely stolen.
“Tha garrden is bootyful. Thank you fer invitin’ me.”
Riana was so taken by her that, upon hearing such a polite little greeting, she—the Empress of the grand Retaile Empire—stood up personally to pluck a flower for Blanche.
“Oh my, the zinnia looks simply divine in your moonlit silver hair.”
Blanche—no, Yi Baekryeon—couldn’t help but be flustered. In the Jin Empire, any flower bestowed by the Emperor or Empress was called osa-hwa, a rare gift usually reserved for successful imperial examination candidates.
And back when Yi Baekryeon became an official, the civil service exam didn’t even exist yet. She had received jade flowers before, but never fresh ones. Never once in her past life had she been given a real flower—until now, just for saying the flowers were pretty.
Caught off guard, and having the unfortunate trait of talking more fluently when flustered, Yi Baekryeon blurted:
“Your beauty ish sho radiant, even the flowash an’ moon’d shy away an’ cover their fashe.”
Had a ten-year-old said that, people might’ve raised their guard. It was too eloquent for a child. But Blanche was only three. Her pronunciation was so unclear that even the maid pouring tea beside her couldn’t make out more than that it was some kind of compliment. Meanwhile, the Empress was completely enamored by the cute girl shyly saying adorable things with a blush.
No problems arose. The Empress—who always exuded an untouchable aura—actually blushed and smiled. Those witnessing this added reverence to their gaze toward Blanche.
Indeed, just as she had captivated the Emperor in a mere three-minute audience, Blanche was now set to become the talk of high society after only a few hours at a tea party.
It was an impossible level of efficiency—a feat even Yi Baekryeon in her past life had never achieved.
It was widely known in the Retaile Empire that the Emperor and Empress cherished the much younger Duke as though he were their own child.
So unless they had other engagements, the Emperor, Empress, and Duke would always dine together. That day, the Empress appeared at the dinner table in an especially cheerful mood.
Was there something particularly pleasant in her schedule today? I thought she was dealing with the hostages?
While Melchizedek puzzled silently, the Emperor asked the question aloud.
“Something good happen today?”
The servants had already been dismissed to give the family some privacy. So, instead of scolding Berken for his casual tone, Riana matched it.
“Yup! I met the cutest little girl at the tea party today.”
Someone she could actually talk to? Or maybe a knight with exceptional promise?
Riana’s proud declaration to her two skeptical family members was:
“Her name is Blanche Roa Vandalouin—a princess from the Kingdom of Lamore. She’s just the sweetest, most adorable thing ever!”
Both were surprised, but Berken was more shocked than Melchizedek, who didn’t know who Blanche was.
I knew she was unusual, but for her to catch the Empress’s eye the very day after mine? She’s only three!
As Berken began to suspect he had uncovered someone far more capable than he thought, Riana delivered a second shock:
“She’s only three, but she’s so mature and clever for her age. Don’t you think you could become good friends with her, Melchizedek?”
It was exactly what Berken had been thinking.
“…Three?”
Melchizedek was a five-year-old gentleman, refined and intelligent. He was well aware of how sad Riana felt about animals and children avoiding her.
So he bit back the urge to ask, A three-year-old didn’t cry and actually had a conversation with you?
“Haha. She may be mature and clever, but she’s still three. That’s nearly half my age. What am I supposed to do with someone that young?”
It was a strangely refreshing way to describe someone two years younger. If someone didn’t know Melchizedek’s age, it might’ve sounded like a reasonable excuse.
Unfortunately, Riana knew he was five.
“Her face is so lovely too! She has moonlight-like silver hair and obsidian-black eyes. She looks just like an exquisitely crafted doll.”
From Melchizedek’s perspective, he’d rather play with an actual expensive doll than with a three-year-old who looked like one.
At least a doll wouldn’t cause any problems if ignored.
But Blanche had gripped Riana’s finger with her tiny, soft hand and said:
“If you invite me again nexsh time, it’ll be the honor of my life.”
With such a charming promise, Riana was entirely swept away. There was no hope of her thinking otherwise.
Melchizedek, however, had no intention of throwing cold water on Riana’s joy at finally bonding with a young girl. While Berken humored her, Melchizedek simply nodded along.
“Really? She said that? She must’ve really liked you.”
“I know, right? Should I invite her for a meal next time? You can meet her too, Melki!”
Just as Melchizedek opened his mouth to protest, Berken beat him to it. He gently silenced him with a look and smiled kindly.
“Of course, sounds great. But dinner might be too formal. Let’s make it lunch instead.”
“Lunch? That’ll delay scheduling too much.”
Riana’s lunch schedule was booked solid for the next month, unlike dinner, which she usually spent with family.
As she looked visibly disappointed at the thought of not seeing Blanche for a month, Berken soothed her.
“We can delay a bit. But lunch could be held in the greenhouse. Wouldn’t it be a little much to bring her into the main palace so soon, especially for just a second meeting?”
“True.”
Melchizedek quickly jumped in to agree.
He had felt an ominous fear that this three-year-old might actually show up at tomorrow’s family dinner.
“Oh, that’s true. Now that I think of it, she really did seem to like the greenhouse—”
Thankfully, Riana changed her mind. As she rose to leave, lamenting that the tea party had gone long and she’d gotten no paperwork done, Melchizedek finally muttered:
“I don’t like this.”
Berken smiled serenely.
“Why are you telling me?”
“You encouraged this!”
“All I did was suggest we move dinner to lunch.”
There were limits to feigning ignorance. Berken would never invite a child he didn’t know well to a family meal—unless he already liked her.
To Melchizedek, it was obvious that this Blanche girl had won over not only Riana, but Berken as well.
“Anyway, I don’t care if it’s lunch or dinner—just let me skip it.”
He said this without expecting Berken to actually agree. Predictably, Berken didn’t seem to take it seriously—but he did look intrigued.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“You haven’t even met Princess Blanche. Why the instant dislike?”
“Because none of the girls you’ve introduced to me have ever been normal!”
Had Melchizedek been ten years older, this might’ve been an awkward statement. But at five, the only “girl” Berken had ever introduced to him was his nanny.
Any children he’d previously been paired with hadn’t been handpicked by Berken either, so it was a baseless accusation.
“Where in the world did you even hear something like that?”
Even knowing Melchizedek wasn’t your average five-year-old, Berken couldn’t take that line seriously.
So he laughed, patted the grumpy child’s head, and said:
“Aigoo. I really need to warn people to mind what they say around our precious little Duke. You’re talking like some back-alley scoundrel.”
“Come on, I wasn’t joking—!”
Well, they said around five was when children started preferring same-gender playmates. Maybe this was just that. Once he actually met her, he’d surely change his mind.
